Who Am I? ((Snapped Canada))
by SherlockSparkleParty
Summary: France, with a shaky voice, smiled through his tears and said, "Canada, mon amour, even with that gun you're holding against my head, you've always been the sweetest, most gentle man I know. I love you." ((Canada finally snapped... ))
1. Part One

**((Who am I? *Axis Powers Hetalia*))**

With an exploding laugh, the Canadian man slammed his rather large pistol against his hand. He looked over the tied up Allies in front of him: America, France, and England. His laughter faded. His small bear, Kumajiro, was present, clinging to his leg. "Hello, friends," the Canadian said eerily, "can you hear me? Can you see me? _Can_ you?" He watched them struggle with the rough ropes that were bounding their wrists and ankles.

America yelled, "Canada, dude, untie us! Let us go man!"

Cocking his pistol, Canada chuckled loudly. "What did you say? Hm? Let you go, eh? Let me think..." He looked America dead in the eye. "After all these years of me being 'invisible', you're finally seeing me and asking for me to let you go? I don't think so." Canada glanced from America to the weary English man, whose head was hung down. "I don't think any of you have a reason why you couldn't see or hear me! Especially you, England - you claim you can see pixies and fairies, so why can't you see _me_?!"

The only response that was given by England was a small, painful sound as Canada pushed the barrel of the pistol against his forehead. He pretended to pull the trigger, causing England to flinch.

"C-Canada," managed France, "mon petite, you know that Papa France loves you-"

"If you _really_ love me, how come you, of all people, don't even notice me? Am I thin air to you too?!" Canada swung his arm forcefully to the side, now aiming the gun at France. "It makes me sick! None of you know what it feels like! None of you ask yourselves why you even exist. You don't know how it feels when you have to beg for recognition, attention, love, and all you get is disrespect and loneliness! You get all the love and attention automatically! I sit at World Meetings with a fake smile on my face, trying to tell you guys what I have to say in my loudest voice! But you don't even know that I'm in the room! And then that bastard Russia sits on me, and I cry for help, but no one can hear me! I'm sick of it!" His voice lingered around the room. Soon, he laughed and held his pistol against the right temple of France's head. "What if I kill someone? Would you notice me then?!"

"Canada!" shouted England and America.

"Wouldn't you remember my name then?!" He forced the barrel of his gun harder as France fell silent, sweating in shock and fear.

England picked up his head. "Don't do something stupid, Canada!" he begged loudly. "Please, put the gun down and-"

"Shut up, England!" Canada rested his index finger against the trigger. His eyes remained on France. "Why should I listen to you?!" He took a deep breath.

France, with a shaky voice, smiled through his tears and said, "Canada, mon amore, even with that gun you're holding against my head, you've always been the sweetest, most gentle man I know. I love you."

Then the sound of a gunshot echoed around the room with Canada's aggravated scream. France's smile remained as his eyes slowly closed and his body went limp. His crimson red blood sprayed onto England's and America's clothes and spilled onto the floor from the wound in his head. Canada, his finger shakily holding down the trigger, backed up slowly. "…i'm canada…"

"Who are you?" Kumajiro squeaked softly.

"Damn it, I'm Canada!" Canada clenched his unoccupied fist.

"F-France!" England shouted, trying desperately to escape from the binding. He didn't realize that tears were pouring down his cheeks until Canada laughed and pointed it out.

"Oh," Canada said mockingly, "look. The English gentleman is crying over someone he was supposed to hate." He softly brushed the tip of the pistol, which was now covered in France's blood, along England's jawbone. "How ironic."

America watched, trembling. "Canada," he yelled, "why did you kill France?!"

"Eh? Why?" Canada, chuckling, pressed his hand into France's blood and streaked it across England's cheekbone. His smile was like a Cheshire cat's - wide and chilling. Shaking his head, he leaned down and untied England's wrists. He stood straight and looked at America. "Who am I, America?"

Slightly hesitating, America watched England pull France's bloody, lifeless body close to him. England kissed his forehead lightly. "Who am I, America?" Canada repeated.

Then America caught Canada's eyes with his. He noticed the strange glimmer that appeared to go back and forth, and that the color had changed to a deep purple that seemed almost black. "What?" America asked.

"Who am I?" Canada knelt down in front of the shaking American and put a bloodstained hand against his jaw. He clenched tightly. "Who am I?" He put the gun against the back of America's golden-haired head. "Who the hell _am_ I?"

"Canada, dude, stop!" America's plead echoed loudly.

"Who am I?"

"Canada!"

A slight silence fell upon them this time. As Canada stood, he jammed the gun into the back of America's head. "Canada!" America shouted again.

But Canada acted like he couldn't hear him. He began to hum and stare at the ceiling. "Where is everyone?" he asked himself. "Where did they all go? I'm alone…" He grinned wider.


	2. Who Am I --- Part two

Something in England snapped, as he looked back and forth between the delirious Canada and dead France. He carefully set France down on the floor, then jumped up. He started to walk to Canada, but since his wrists were untied he had become ignorant of the rope around his ankles. He fell to the ground, causing a loud noise to invade the room.  
When the noise was gone, Canada looked down at England, who was hysterical on the ground. Canada laughed loudly and said, "Oh! There you are. I didn't even know you were here until you made a loud enough…bang." He smirked at his own joke.  
"Canada," cried England, "I think I've had just about enough!"  
"Oh really? How do you think I feel?" Canada sighed, toying with his pistol. "Man, you look more pathetic now than I ever did." He pushed England onto his back with his foot, then looked him down from his red, tear-soaked face to the blood painted onto his clothes. "So very pathetic. You don't even look confidant that you'll survive at all."  
"That all depends on what you'll do next."

Part II  
"Who am I?"

Canada, now leaning against the steel wall, watched the ground carefully. America and England had given up trying to get out, so it seemed.  
But England had his back turned to Canada. His hands slipped under the binding around his rope-burned ankles. He had been trying to loosen it, but it wasn't coming undone without noise. Each time a noise was made, Canada would laugh to himself and mumble on about how alone he was. Finally, after a long while of trying, England pulled the rope loose. He ripped it off of his ankles, standing up and facing Canada. "Canada!" he yelled. "It's time to hand over the gun."  
Pushing himself off of the wall, Canada let out a high pitch of laughter. "Time to hand it over, eh?" He stood in front of England. England didn't move a muscle, though he couldn't breathe very well either. Shaking his head, Canada cocked the gun and raised it up. He gently pushed the barrel against England's forehead. "I don't think you've learned your lesson, though."  
"Don't-"  
"Who am I?" Canada tightened his lips. "Who are you?"  
England bit back his reply, instead swallowing nervously.  
"More importantly…" He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger. "…who am I?" He waited to hear the loud thud on the ground before he opened his eyes again and looked at America.  
With a lunge forward, which landed him onto his knees, America cried out, "E-England, not you too!"  
But England was already dead.  
"Who am I?" Canada pleaded. "Tell me. Tell me who I am so I can stop."  
"Canada," America said, "we've been saying your name this whole time-"  
"But this is what happens, America," growled Canada, "when people neglect you for so long. Wouldn't you agree?"  
"This is what happens, America," growled Canada, "when people neglect you for so long. Wouldn't you agree?"  
"C-Canada. Please…Please stop."  
"Why should I? After all there's only two of us left."  
"There should be four."  
Dead silence took over. A sinister expression crept across Canada's face as he looked from Kumajiro to America. "America," he asked, "how would you like to be alone?"  
America widened his eyes. As Canada came over to him and ripped away the ropes binding him, he said, "What do you…mean?"  
Canada's suddenly maniacal laughter filled the room. "America, this is what I mean." Cocking his pistol once more, Canada pushed Kumajiro off of his leg. America stood, getting face-to-face with him. Canada closed his eyes and smiled ear-to-ear. He lifted the gun to his own head. "Goodbye, America."  
To America's horror, he pulled the trigger.  
He fell onto America, dropping the gun and going limp. America grabbed his shoulder. He picked the pistol up and shook Canada forcefully. When he finally realized that Canada was gone, he let him drop to the floor. He stared at the three people who meant the most to him: Canada, England, and France.  
Kumajiro snuck over and jumped up onto America's leg. He climbed up to his shoulder. America clenched the gun in his hand, wide eyed and trembling. He, putting the gun between his clenched teeth, grabbed Canada by his shirt and dragged him next to France. He did the same for England. Noticing that the room reeked with death, he put the gun back into his hand and watched over the three. "Dude…Guys…Why did you do this, Canada?"  
As hours seemed to pass by, America curled up on the floor next to them. He was clinging to England, letting his tears fall freely. His face was buried in England's cold neck. Kumajiro still stayed on America's shoulder. Suddenly, America said to himself, "'Who am I…' I never noticed Canada asking that…oh man…"  
Kumajiro replied, "Who are you?"  
"I'm…America. Don't ask me that, dude, come on."  
"Who?"  
"America. Didn't ya hear?"  
Suddenly, with an exploding cry, the American man stood and grabbed the rather large pistol with his hand. He slammed it against the ground angrily, watching it break into several different pieces. He looked over the deceased Allies in front of him: Canada, France, and England. His cry suddenly faded. "I'm America. America. Don't ask that stupid question anymore. All right?"


End file.
